Acknowledge Ghosts
by notxherex
Summary: France sees the ghost everywhere but refuses to pay him any attention. FrUK pairing! Not friendship!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.

All characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz

* * *

><p>It wasn't that he couldn't see him.<br>He just chose not to acknowledge him.  
>Because, if he did, everyone would think he was crazy.<br>He, France, was the romantic one after all. Not the crazy one.  
>That had been Arthur.<br>Had.

France sees him again. The ghost, the only ghost he had ever seen in all the time he had been on Earth, England's ghost. It hadn't been long after the death of the other nation. A year or two perhaps.  
>France had never mourned.<br>Why would he when he and England had been more enemies than friends.  
>Or so he would have liked to have been.<br>That way, he wouldn't have thought of England every single day since the other's disappearance. He would probably not see his ghost either.  
>That damn ghost.<br>England looked at Francis, who looked away but could see him through the corner of his eye. France knew it didn't matter if he ignored the ghost because it knew he always thought of him.

England, though, wouldn't get too close. Especially not during meetings that France attended. He was currently at the world meeting and was trying to pay attention to America talk about debt or something. He didn't know, not when he couldn't stop thinking about England's ghost.

He glances at the ghost who was now looking at America with a peaceful look on his face. It was as if he were remembering the past with the American.

Silly England.

Even as a ghost, he cared too much about the past with the American.

_Throb_

There it was again, the pain in his heart.  
>France knew what he felt. One can't have someone in their life for a very long time without ending up having feelings for them or so France believed.<p>

He loved England.

But he wouldn't admit it to himself. It wasn't easy when his heart told him one thing, and his mind chanted it wasn't true.

Someone calls his name and he snaps out of his thought in time to realize England is looking straight at him, their eyes locked and France holds his breath.

"France!"

He lets go of the breath, looking away from the ghost.

"Ah sorry."

"Are you okay?" Spain asks him from across the table.

He can only nod as he looks down to ignore the ghost. Once he looks up again, England is gone.

_Throb_

It didn't really matter, he'd be back.

A few days later, France is back at his home. He has finished some paper work and deems he deserves a break.

It usually took him longer to finish anything at all, it had been differently recently because he now had motivation. What motivated him was the fact that England was there watching him and France, again, didn't want to pay attention to him.

He had worked a lot, barely taking a break unless he really needed it. England's ghost had stood beside him, looking down at him as if waiting to be recognized.

France didn't hate the ghost's company but he didn't want to admit that he saw him.  
>Because..<br>Because that would mean Arthur was truly gone.

Not that he cared.

_Throb_

France groaned as he rubbed his shoulder, he needed to lie down. He heads to his living room and plops down to lie down on the couch with his eyes closed.

France sighs as he looks up and feels as if he almost had a heart attack.

"England.."

The ghost's eyes widen a bit as if he hadn't expected the other to talk to him and then he smiles.

Oh no, he had done it. He had acknowledged the ghost.

"France."

* * *

><p>So ends chapter one.<p>

Thank you for reading!

Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

France sat up quickly, his heart was beating faster than usual. He didn't know if he was scared or was still shocked by the ghost's ability to talk. Either way, he was not happy.

England cocked his head to the side, "What? Don't tell me you're scared?" He asks in an amused voice.

"Of course not," he furrows his eyebrows, "I was just surprised since you've never spoken to me before."

"You've never wanted me to."

_Throb. _

France looked away from the ghost. He was right of course, he didn't mind England's ghost being around him, not too much anyway, but he hadn't wanted to talk to it. Because he refused to believe it was real. It didn't exist.

Even now that it had talked to him, he still didn't believe in it. He was just going crazy.  
>That was all.<br>All the stress from his life as a nation had finally gotten to him.

He raises his hand to cover his eyes and groans.

"You're not crazy," the other spoke up again, "well not in that sense."

France doesn't reply. He simply didn't know what to say; he found it a little frightening that England, the ghost, knew what he was thinking.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

Silence.

_Throb._

France finally speaks up after a while, "Why are you here?"

England smiles, they were finally getting somewhere. He sits beside the other, except he didn't really touch the couch, he floated. But things like that didn't really matter when you were dead. No need to use correct terms.

"I'm here because you won't let me go."

_Throb._

"Let you go?"

The ghost only nods.

"I never had you in the first place, I never cared about you." He forces a smirk, "Actually, I was very happy when you died."

_Throb._

England's smile doesn't falter. "Is that what you think?"

"It's what I know. It was your own fault you died, your economy was the worst it had ever been. Everyone knew you couldn't have survived much longer."

"Yes, I remember. I had many visitors that came to say goodbye. I found it a little odd that you didn't."

_Throb._

"Like I said, I was happy." he removes his hand from his face and looks at England. "You were finally going to die."

It was logical that France had always wanted England to die. Both of them spent a lot of the time fighting, planning to fight, and aiming to kill each other. Their hearts were supposedly full of hate for one another even though, in the beginning and for a very short while, they had been on friendly terms.

But despite the fighting, there were times where they could sit beside each other and talk or sit in silence enjoying each other's company.

That had always made him happy.

_Throb. _

"I know you're lying. " England's ghost was starting to fade, "Because, if that were true, I wouldn't be here right now."

Throb.

"Wha-"

England has disappeared completely now. France stares at the spot where the other had been and lies down with his arms around the cushion the ghost had appeared to have sat on. He felt it was as close as he could to a hug.

"I hate you, England. I always have." He mumbles to the air.

* * *

><p>Sorry the chapters are short! I had wanted to write more but it's late and I don't want to ramble one with nonsense. Which I don't feel I'm doing but if I am tell me.<p>

Thank you for all the reviews, alerts, favorites, and so on.

I truly appreciate it!

Also, to answer many people, this is a FrUK fic as in romantic love not friendship. Sorry I didn't make that clear!

Hope this chapter works..I may change it? If need be?

...

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Months had passed since the last time France saw England's ghost.

The scary part was that there were times that England would not even cross France's mind, though that never lasted long, and, whenever France realized that England had left his mind, he panicked and would try his best to remember the other's face, his voice, his bad temper, everything.

_Throb._

He was forgetting. Slowly but surely. It didn't make sense, countries weren't forgotten easily. They didn't disappear, they didn't die, just to be forgotten. Countries were always remembered. They were a part of history.

Yet, here France could barely remember the Englishman who represented the country, that was once an empire, and who once affected everything about his life.

France sits at a bench in a park where he was waiting for his friend. A friend who could help him or so he hoped. He leans his head back to look at the sky. It was cloudy. Cloudy like most of the days at England's were.

_Throb._

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine England's smile.

"Love." he mumbles into the air.

It had taken him more than a thousand years to finally accept what he had and still felt for the English nation. The nation he could no longer touch, hear, nor see.

France brings a hand over his closed eyes that were threatening to overflow with tears. He hadn't cried. Not yet and he somehow felt that he wouldn't.

Not when the other had completely disappeared from his life.

Not when his memories of England were slipping away.

How could you miss someone you didn't remember?

How could you cry for someone you no longer knew?

_Throb._

But was England really leaving his mind and his memories?

He couldn't help but wonder.

Was he really forgetting the one he loved?

_Throb._

France looked up at the sound of footsteps to see Spain walking towards him.

"Hello." Spain greets with a smile and France tries to force one back.

Spain sits beside the Frenchman and waits for him to speak. France had called him out of nowhere and he had immediately known that this was serious, whatever was bothering France was important. He could guess it was about England though. Spain might be oblivious, or at least act as such, but he could tell France had had feelings for England and the fact that France never cried after the the other's death worried him.

It seemed everything would catch up with France eventually, if it hadn't already.

France looks at Spain from the corner of his eye and looks back to the scenery in front of him.  
>Taking a breath, he begins to tell Spain about how he used to see England's ghost almost everywhere and everyday. He mentions how he had ignored it the spirit.<p>

"I didn't want it to be true," he whispers loud enough for Spain to hear, "I felt that if I talked to the ghost it would mean England was truly gone even though I told myself I didn't care."

_Throb._

He sneaks a look at the Spain.

Spain isn't looking at him and he is thankful for that.

"I made the mistake of talking to him a few months ago and he disappeared. I told him I was glad he was dead, he starts to feel tears form in his eyes, I.."

France's voice wavers and both men wait until the blonde man composes himself.

"The truth is, I love him and I miss him."

Spain looks at France. A little relieved that he had finally admitted his feelings.

"And," France starts, his voice becoming shaky, "I think I might be forgetting him."

_Throb._

Spain's eyes widen, "What do you mean? You can't forget him. He was a nation, it's impossible to forget him, especially so soon after his death." Spain was trying his best to comfort the other with his words.

France shakes his head and looks at Spain, his eyes showing a sadness Spain hadn't seen in years since the death of a woman that had meant quite a bit to France.

This sadness, though, seemed much worse.

Spain tries again, "You have just accepted the love you feel for him right? It's only the stress that's affecting you, don't worry. You won't forget him."

France listens carefully and takes everything into consideration. Maybe Spain was right.

France seems to be calming down with every word Spain says so the Spaniard continues, thinking of what made France realize that he missed the other. "You'll see him again." Spain moves an arm over France's shoulder. "You know he is too stubborn to stay away, even as a ghost. Why else would he have waited so long by your side even though you were ignoring him? He'll be back."

France smiles at the truth of England's personality.

Spain was right about everything. Forgetting England was part of his imagination because he was afraid of the hurt he felt for accepting the love he had for a dead man. Yet, now that he thought about it, he would rather have the memories than nothing at all. It was all up to him to remember the other.

France closes his eyes and can clearly see England and his grumpy expression again.

The Englishman would be back. They had unfinished business after all. France opens his eyes and stands up. He looks up at the sky before he looks back at his Spanish friend.

"I hope he'll come see me soon."

He turns away from Spain and closes his eyes to imagine England standing before him.

"I need to talk to you." he whispers.

* * *

><p>End of chapter three!<br>I felt that France needed to talk to a friend and so this happened.

Sorry for taking so long to update, been quite busy with getting ready to go back to school. I've also been quite tired lately.

Anyway, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Every morning and every night for the next few weeks, France would call out for England and hoped the nation's ghost would appear in front of him again.

After talking to Spain, he had went home and told himself that things would be okay and England would eventually be back to see him. Still, there were days where he couldn't take it and would drink in order to forget or simply pass out. He'd wake up the next day to regret that he had lost hope.

On this particular cold night, he was remembering the last conversation he had had with the English nation before said man had died. It hadn't been a mean one but it wasn't a friendly, love filled one that he now wished he had with the other.

No, instead it had been about their governments and the fact that England's economy was failing. France had not cared. England had acted all cocky like always and had said he'd jump back and be better than France once more.

_Throb._

"Liar." France says out loud as he sits on his couch in his empty and well kept living room. He closes his eyes to see England's scowling face and this causes him to chuckle.

The French nation was glad he could once again clearly remember England. His fears before had caused him to almost forget the other and he was happy that he had his precious memories of England back. He promised himself he would't let them go again because it was now the last thing he had of the dead nation.

"England." he mumbles.

"Yes?"

France opens his eyes wide with shock and, seeing nothing but empty air, he stands up and looks around wildly.

"England?" His voice full of urgency.

England was there, wasn't he? He had to be! France had heard him and he had something very important to tell him!

"England?"

"Calm down, frog." The ghost's voice comes from behind France who turns around and lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

England's ghost smiles but it quickly disappears when France reaches out to hold his hand. France's face shows shock at first and then the worst sadness England had ever seen on the Frenchman's face. France should have known he couldn't have touched him.

France stays quiet for a while before he decides that wasn't the point of this encounter. He finally got the chance that he wanted and he wasn't going to waste it like he had before when the other was alive. He forces a smile on his face, not knowing what to expect.

"I need to talk to you." he speaks with a smooth voice that didn't hint of the nervousness that his heart was feeling. He questioned how England would react to his confession. Would he take it well? Did he feel the same?

"I know, that's why I'm here." England floats over to the couch and gestures for the other to come sit down. The Frenchman does as he's told.

France speaks as soon as he sits down; he felt that he couldn't waste any time, as if the other would leave before he could get a chance to confess. That would be cruel. He had already waited too long. "Does that mean you know what I want to say?" he asks as he turns to look at England who only looks back.

There's silence for a while and during that time they can only stare into each other's eyes. France could only wonder why it had taken so long to truly realize how he felt for England. Why did he have to wait until he could no longer hold England, the one he loved?

_Throb._

"You do, don't you?" France asks the again.

"If I do, it's only because I might have something similar to say."

"What?" his heart skips a beat.

England shakes his head. "I left something unsaid. I couldn't leave knowing that I had."

France takes a deep breath, the time to tell England what he felt was now.

"I love you, England." he leans in; not enough to touch the other since he knew he couldn't, but close enough to have made England blush if he had been alive.

England smiles and his eyes start shining as if they were filling with tears. He leans in the rest of the way and France's eyes widen when he can feel England's lips on his. Before he can react, England pulls away.

"I love you too."

The tears that had threatened to fall from France's eyes for the longest time now were finally rolling down his cheeks. France wraps his arms around the other and brings him in for another kiss.

The kiss lasts longer than the one before. It was soft yet passionate. He tried to convey all he felt into the kiss. His heart flutters from the happiness he feels.

A happiness that was fleeting.

"I'll always love you." England speaks up after the kiss and France leans his head on England's shoulder.

"That's my line." France replies, his voice sounding weak and broken yet playful.

England chuckles softly, his voice threatening to break like the other's.

He decides he won't say goodbye despite the fact that he knew that is exactly what was happening. This moment was their time to part forever.

"I love you, England. I'll love you forever and longer than that." France can feel the other starting to fade and he tightens his hold on him, trying desperately to keep him there.

"I know, France, me too."

France falls to the couch as the other completely disappears. His sobs are the only things that could be heard throughout the house until he calms down and falls to sleep thinking of England.

_"I love you, my dear."_

* * *

><p>The end.<p>

First, I want to apologize for taking so long to update.  
>I've been incredibly busy and went through a bad time in my life.<p>

Second, thanks for reading and following this fic.

Review if you could, it would help a lot!

Thank you for everything!


End file.
